


Quiet Zone Adventure

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DiNozzo and McGee are in trouble with Gibbs - who thinks up a special assignment for them ... a very special assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Shouldn't there be a sign or something?" said Tony DiNozzo discontentedly, as he peered through the windshield of the battered Jeep.

"What? _Abandon hope all ye who enter here_?" asked Tim McGee in an equally unhappy tone.

"Well," considered Tony, "perhaps not quite that. But there should be a warning. Don't you think?"

" _I_ think all the time," said Tim crossly, "it's you who don't."

"Hey," said Tony defensively, "this is not …"

"Your fault? Oh, yes it is," said Tim firmly.

Flashback

Practised observers of the Major Case Response Team knew that its members did not thrive on inactivity, especially when down time followed a period of intense activity. Those practised observers had, therefore, prudently distanced themselves on the fifth day without a new case following a month in which case had followed case with the team barely having time to sleep at their desks, let alone go home to rest.

Gibbs' team recovered best from such pressure by a gradual decompressing; one case following another in orderly fashion. The abrupt switch from manic activity to idleness was not good for them and they tended to 'cope' in disturbing ways. One of these ways was an increasingly frenetic prank war that had broken out between Agents McGee and DiNozzo with collateral damage sometimes spilling on to hapless passers-by.

After some years of dealing with DiNozzo, McGee had started using his computer skills in ways his alma mater might have deplored but which he found deeply satisfying. Tony's bewilderment at having veggie pizzas delivered to his desk on an hourly basis was wonderful to behold and increased when he had to pay for them as they seemed to have been ordered from his phone. The 'amendment' to Tony's computer which meant documents were never saved was small beer in comparison but was equally effective in raising the DiNozzo blood pressure.

DiNozzo was not defeated however. He might lack some of McGee's technical skills but he was an artist when it came to dismantling. The handle had fallen off McGee's coffee mug, his chair had gradually disintegrated during the day and his shoes had fallen apart when he went to the men's room. Tony was rather proud that he had stayed away from his trade mark super glue but, with his legendary inventiveness running out, he decided to go back to basics. On reflection, that was not one of his best decisions.

In some ways, however, Tony considered it to be a master stroke. McGee was on the alert for ever more sophisticated attacks and it was possible that a simple assault on his keyboard would sneak under his defences.

Tony arrived to work with a studiedly nonchalant air the day after smearing the glue on the Mckeyboard. He had timed his arrival for a few minutes after McGee's and reckoned he would be there at the optimum moment. Tony was surprised, therefore, to see Tim sitting rather smugly at his desk as he drank his morning coffee from the repaired coffee mug. Tony cast a quick look over his own desk to make sure there were no obvious traps and sat down to await further developments.

"Morning, Boss," he said cheerily as Gibbs swept into the office.

"Boss," chorused Tim.

Gibbs nodded curtly in greeting. DiNozzo and McGee were not his favourite people at the moment; he usually tried to ignore their practical jokes but the last few days had been rather wearing and he thought he might have to intervene if they didn't calm down. Gibbs reluctantly switched his computer on and entered his password: or rather, he tried to but found that he couldn't move his fingers which were stuck to the keys.

"DiNozzo!" he roared as he raised his hands and the keyboard came too.

"B-b-boss … t-t-that wasn't m-m-me. I swear it wasn't!" said Tony in a panic. He looked across to Tim who looked at him with a mixture of sadness and bewilderment.

"Uh, Boss," said Tim after a moment or two of tense silence, "I think I know what happened. I switched my keyboard for yours."

"Why?" demanded Gibbs as he look incredulously at his hands.

"I wanted you to see how much easier my keyboard is to use than your old one," said McGee virtuously.

"I  _like_  the old one," muttered Gibbs.

"And I guess someone," McGee looked at Tony, "had put superglue on it."

Gibbs fixed Tony with a glare.

"I have some acetone," said McGee helpfully as Tony seemed to be struck dumb although his mouth was opening and closing as his brain tried to engage.

"Going to see Ducky," announced Gibbs. "And where do you think  _you're_  going?" he said to Tony who had got ready to follow him.

"Uh, uh. Er. Er. I thought I'd press the buttons for the elevator," he said, "Uh, you know, you might find it tricky with …" he trailed off as he pointed to Gibbs' hand ornaments.

"OK," said Gibbs, "and then you go back to your desk and  _you stay there_!"

"Yes, Boss. Of course, Boss," said Tony as he ran to the elevator and then tried to stay out of head slap range.

Tim took a satisfying sip of his coffee as he watched Tony wander back to his desk, he looked broken. Tony sat down and buried his head in his hands, a stifled groan came from his direction. McGee took his morning donut out of its bag and began to pick off the sprinkles until a sudden movement from Tony's desk caught his attention.

"Hah!" exclaimed Tony as his head jerked up and turned to look at Tim. "No," he said as he returned his head to his hands, "no, it's not possible."

Tim had time to pick off another five sprinkles before Tony lifted his head once more.

"And yet," said Tony, "it seems the only possible solution." He got up and came to stand in front of Tim's desk.

"What's up, Tony?" asked McGee, "I mean apart from being about to be eviscerated by Gibbs?"

"Very good, McGee," praised Tony, "or should I say McReckless?"

"Don't what you're talking about," said Tim airily.

"Or perhaps it should be McDevious," mused Tony as he leaned menacingly over McGee.

"Still don't know," said McGee trying to appear uninterested.

"In all the times I have superglued your keyboard," said Tony, "you have never  _once_  managed to avoid getting your fingers stuck."

"What's your point?" asked McGee.

"And yet you managed to unplug your keyboard, carry it over to the Boss's desk, plug it in and somehow do all that without touching the keys?"

"So?" said McGee with a hint of bluster.

"So, I think that's impossible. I think you spotted the glue on your keyboard and decided to divert the prank on to Gibbs."

"Don't know what you're talking about," said McGee, picking sprinkles off with more haste than usual.

"It's brave," admitted Tony, "suicidal, but brave. I didn't know you had it in you, McGee."

"It was you who put the glue on the keyboard, not me," protested Tim.

"And you really think that Gibbs won't work out that you knew the glue was there?" marvelled Tony, "oh, Tim. This is  _Gibbs_  we're talking about."

"Still don't know what you're going on about," said Tim as calmly as he could.

"Of course," said Tony turning away to go back to his desk, "it might just be that my master plan worked."

"What master plan?"

"I knew you'd spot the glue. So, I thought, what will little Timmy do. Perhaps he'll prank me by switching it over to Gibbs."

"You didn't think that," said Tim scornfully, "you didn't  _manipulate_  me into making the switch. I did it …"

"Hah!" said Tony triumphantly as he swung round to look at Tim again, "you admit it!"

"OK," said Tim, "I did it. After I'd unstuck my fingers! I came back last night to … well, I came back and got stuck to the keyboard. That's when I thought about moving it to Gibbs' desk."

Tony punched the air in triumph. "Very clever, McGee," he acknowledged, "but like I said, it's a dangerous strategy."

"How so?"

"You think the Boss won't figure it out? It was one thing for him to think he got stuck as collateral damage. He knows I would  _never_  deliberately prank him. But you …"

"Me what?" asked McGee nervously.

"You, McHapless," said Tony with some glee, "you pranked him  _on purpose_!"

"But you said it was all part of your devious plan," said McGee hysterically.

Tony shrugged, "you think the Boss will believe that?"

Tim gazed at Tony in horror.

Silence fell once more as Tony sat down at his desk and both agents decided it would be politic to look as if they were working when Gibbs returned. They didn't have long to wait. Gibbs came back, keyboard tucked under one arm and a cup of coffee in both hands. He sat down and smiled at his agents. It wasn't a nice smile.

"DiNozzo, McGee," he said in a deceptively soft voice as he crooked his finger to summon them to his desk.

Tim and Tony walked up trying to look as if they were completely relaxed. They each wondered who Gibbs had identified as the real culprit.

"Got a job for you two boys," said Gibbs conversationally.

Tony thought of saying something like, 'that's nice', but there was something in Gibbs' expression which warned him that would not be wise. He nodded his head instead.

Tim had noticed that, on occasion, Gibbs' head looked almost snakelike: it was something about the way he swivelled it better to fix his ice-cold gaze on his latest victim. It seemed particularly snakelike that day. He swallowed.

"Caspar Sullivan," said Gibbs as he continued to look at his agents who wisely kept silence.

"Caspar Sullivan," repeated Gibbs. Tim and Tony jumped into life as they realised it had been something of a question.

"Er, Petty Officer Caspar Sullivan," said Tony, "suspected to have been stealing hi-tech items from the USS Intrepid."

"Arrested making a sale in West Virginia," completed Tim.

"Army CID were following a suspected arms dealer to a meet. Sullivan turned out to be the supplier," continued Tony.

"Navy has done a full audit of the Intrepid's stores," said Gibbs, "turns out there's a lot more missing than what Sullivan had with him when he was arrested."

Silence, which was eventually broken by Tony, "So?"

"So, the Navy wants to find the rest of the stolen items."

"How, Boss?" asked McGee.

"Well, McGee, you and DiNozzo are going to go to West Virginia and find it all."

"Er, how will we know where to look?" asked Tony.

"Sullivan was on leave for a week. Spent it camping out in West Virginia. Looks as if he stashed it all there."

"And?" asked McGee.

"So, you're going to go to all the possible camp sites and find the missing equipment. You've got five days."

"Oh," said Tony, breathing a sigh of relief. That didn't sound so bad. The weather wasn't good but it wasn't too cold yet although the days were getting shorter.

"Right," said McGee, "er. We just need the location." He was also relieved. A few days out of the office didn't sound so bad even if they were going to be spent with Tony.

Gibbs passed Sullivan's file to Tony, "We know Sullivan went straight home from the Intrepid and didn't leave the area for a week. Best guess is that he hid the gear within a twenty mile radius of his home. Look there."

Tony opened the file and looked for the address, "Lives near Green Bank. Hmmm. Why does that sound familiar?"

"Green Bank?" said Tim, "don't know, rings a bell."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow sending Tim and Tony scuttling back to their computers to get directions. He drank from his coffee and waited for realisation to dawn.

"Green Bank is in the middle of the National Radio Quiet Zone," said Tony.

"But … but … but that means there's no cell reception. No Wi-Fi," gasped Tim, "Boss. Our cells won't work, we won't be able to do anything using our technology!"

Tim and Tony looked at each other in horror and then looked at Gibbs whose expression was inscrutable but somehow still suggested that he had hit on a particularly fiendish punishment.

"Not much radio either, I hear," said Gibbs blandly.

"Better get some nickels and dimes then," said Tony, "to use in the pay phones."

"Good idea," said Gibbs neutrally.

"I'll look up hotels," said McGee, "book us in."

"McGee," said Gibbs.

"Boss?"

"I don't think Fred in Accounting will pass any expense claims on this."

"Why not, Boss?" said McGee.

"Because the Boss will have a word with him, Tim," said Tony sadly as he realised the extent of the punishment.

"Might stretch to you hiring camping gear," said Gibbs generously.

"Yes, Boss, thank you, Boss," said Tony, "come on Tim, Time to exercise those Grizzly Adams skills."

"Oh, boys," called Gibbs as Tony and Tim reached the elevator, "hire a diesel."

"Why, Boss?" asked Tim.

"Spark plugs aren't allowed near the Observatory. Seems they create some sort of radio disturbance. So, no petrol cars."

Tim's head drooped even more.

End flashback

Now Tony and Tim were sitting forlornly in their 1990 Jeep Cherokee with a heap of camping gear loaded in the back. The Satnav app on Tim's cell phone indicated that the National Radio Quiet Zone lay a few hundred yards ahead and they were bracing themselves for the technology free ordeal which lay ahead.

"Perhaps it's an exaggeration," said Tim hopefully, "I mean, who manages without a smartphone these days?"

"Gibbs," said Tony succinctly.

"And Wi-Fi?" said Tim mournfully.

"Gibbs."

"OK. What  _normal_ people?"

"I give you that one," conceded Tony, "OK. Let's go," and he eased the jeep forward.

Tim kept his eyes fixed on his phone and then sighed as the bars disappeared one by one and his connection to the outside world faded and died.

Tony stopped the car.

"Why have you stopped?" asked Tim.

"Get the map out, Tim," said Tony.

"Map?"

"Yeah. You know that foldy thing with contour lines and road names. Helps you know where you're going."

"Map?" repeated Tim.

"Yes! You said you'd be in charge of navigation," said Tony trying to be patient.

"I-I-I …"

"Forgot that Satnav wouldn't work in the Twilight Zone," finished Tony. He put the jeep into reverse and went back down the road.

"Where you going?" asked McGee, "we're not giving up, are we?" he added in sudden hope.

"No," said Tony firmly, "we'll go back to where we can get a signal and then you can plot us a course."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere we can buy a map!"

Shortly afterwards they made their second entry into the Quiet Zone. Tim sighed. It would be a long five days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK – two things.
> 
> I've used the Gibbs superglued idea before but I think it has a different twist this time.
> 
> The Quiet Zone is a 13000 square mile rectangle in Virginia/West Virginia where there are lots of restrictions on radio transmissions. This is designed to protect the National Radio Astronomy Observatory and the US Navy Information Operations Command (NIOC) at Sugar Grove. The Observatory is at Green Bank and the severest restrictions are in place there. It just seemed such a cool place to send someone like McGee who loves technology and who probably can't live without the internet.


	2. Chapter 2

"What happens if my appendix bursts?" asked Tony as he drove along.

"What?" asked McGee.

"If my appendix bursts. How are you going to be able to summon assistance?"

"Tony, your appendix isn't going to burst," said McGee firmly.

"How do you know? I've got a bit of pain in my stomach already."

"That's the third burrito you ate for lunch."

"How do you know? You're not a medical expert."

"Tony, your appendix isn't going to burst," repeated Tim.

"How…"

"Because you haven't got an appendix! You've told me the story of the operation six times."

"Oh, yeah," said Tony, "but it's a good story. I remember that I was lying there …"

"TONY!" yelled McGee, " _six_  times, remember?"

"Oh," said Tony sheepishly, "but it is a good story." He looked across at his passenger, "isn't it?"

McGee smiled reluctantly, "Yeah, it's a good story."

Tony smiled contentedly and then continued, "So what we will do if you break a leg? I'm not sure I could carry you very far."

"Why am  _I_ going to break a leg?" asked Tim, "why not you?"

"Because you're the clumsy one," said Tony as if it was obvious, "I'm a natural athlete, steady on my feet. Whereas you …"

"Me what?"

"You are not. Still we'll think of something."

"I'm not going to break my leg," said Tim crossly.

"There you go," said Tony, "you stick to that. Look on the bright side."

"Well, if  _you_  break your leg," said Tim, "I've got the perfect movie reference to solve our problems."

"Really, McGee? I'm impressed. All those years of me patiently training you have finally borne fruit. So what's the movie?"

"'They Shoot Horses, Don't They?'"

Tony drove a couple of miles in offended silence.

"So, McReckless," Tony said eventually, "what did you come back to the office for last night?"

"What?"

"You said you'd come back last night and  _encountered_ the glue on your keyboard. Why did you go back? Were you up to some nefarious deed?"

"I rigged your lamp to somersault off your desk," admitted Tim, "it might even do a double twist. What about you? Did you have anything else planned?"

"Your desk phone is going to start playing the national anthems of all the countries in the world," said Tony simply.

"You spent hours recording all the national anthems?" asked McGee.

"Nope. I've got a buddy works in international corporate hospitality. He's got recordings of all the anthems; he downloaded it for me. It's on a continual loop on a player inside your phone."

"I'm almost impressed," said Tim, "that'll be really annoying. I guess unplugging the phone won't stop it?"

"No. I figured it would take you a while to stop it."

"When's it due to go off?" asked Tim.

Tony looked at his watch. "About now. What about my acrobatic lamp?"

"Same," said Tim, "shame to miss it really. Bit of a waste."

"You know I swapped lamps with Gibbs, don't you?" said Tony casually.

Tim jumped in alarm, "Tony! You didn't, did you?"

"Relax, McTwitchy, you're the one who does the switcheroos. Hey, looks as if we're here," he pointed to the small town up ahead. "We'll pick up some supplies and call Gibbs. And get a map."

McGee and DiNozzo gathered their supplies and went to a diner for a drink and to use the pay phone. Tony gazed happily at the TV screen; he was suffering withdrawal symptoms already. After a drink and snack, they went to the payphone although it took them a moment or two to remember how to use one.

"Gibbs."

"Hi, Boss, it's us. DiNozzo and McGee. We got here all right."

There was no reply and Tony realised that they hadn't been forgiven enough that Gibbs would make any friendly enquiries over their welfare.

"We're about to go and make camp," said Tony, trying to sound a little pathetic. His efforts were wasted but Gibbs did have something to say.

"Army CID have been talking to Sullivan," he said, "he's singing like a canary. Given them some of the locations where he stashed the equipment."

"Great," said Tony, "email them to McGee and we'll get on it."

Silence.

"Oh, of course, you can't do that. I'll put McGee on," he handed the phone to McGee and Gibbs read out three sets of co-ordinates.

"Right, Boss. Thank you, Boss," said McGee.

Tony leaned in so that they could each hear and speak to the Boss.

"How's it going, Boss?" said Tony.

At that moment they heard both the opening strains of the  _Star Spangled Banner_ and an exclamation from Gibbs waft down the phone line.

"Boss …" said Tony, "I think we need to go now."

"That's a good idea, DiNozzo. And tell McGee …"

"What, Boss?"

"Tell McGee that your lamp jumped off your desk." McGee smiled in triumph. "Director Vance was leaning on your desk at the time."

"Why was Vance by my desk?" asked Tony.

Silence.

"Of course, there's no reason why he shouldn't be leaning on my desk. He's the Director. He can do what he likes."

Silence.

"Is he all right?"

"Ducky says it's just a mild concussion. He'll be fine in a couple of days."

"That … that's good," said DiNozzo, "gotta go."

"Wait," ordered Gibbs, "when you find the stuff, take it to NIOC. They're expecting you. Call back tomorrow. Might have some more co-ordinates for you." The line went dead.

Tony looked at McGee who had gone pale with shock.

"I knocked the Director out?" he said tremulously.

"Way to go, McDeadly," said Tony, "first Gibbs, now Vance. You've really got a death wish."

NCISNCIS

Meanwhile in the squad room, the Director was raising a quizzical eyebrow at Gibbs,

"What was that about?"

"Revenge," said Gibbs with a smile, "revenge."

Leon nodded as he looked at the ruins of the lamp which had spun off DiNozzo's desk as he came down the stairs.

"DiNozzo and McGee going to pick up the missing equipment?"

"Might take them a few days," said Gibbs.

"Why? Sullivan's given up all the locations, hasn't he?"

"Let's just say, I'm only giving them out a few at a time," said Gibbs.

"Let me guess," said Vance, "you're not going to give them out in order?"

"Nope," said Gibbs cheerfully, "they'll be criss-crossing Green Bank a lot over the next few days."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," said Vance ruefully as he retreated away from the noise of the German national anthem coming from McGee's desk.

NCISNCIS

Tony made Tim drive to their chosen camp site. He wasn't sure he was in a fit state to do either but, at a pinch, preferred to trust Tim's driving rather than map reading skills at that moment. Concentrating on driving seemed to calm Tim down a bit and they arrived at their destination without mishap.

The light was going so they decided to pitch their tent first. Fortunately it was of a type that Tim was familiar with from his Webelos trips and they got it up without more than two bruised fingers and three temper tantrums.

They went off to collect wood for their fire and then came back to get ready for the night. McGee went into the tent to put the sleeping bags out and lay out their gear, leaving Tony to collect the food from the jeep.

"I'll start the fire in a minute," called out McGee but when he crawled out of the tent he was surprised to see that Tony already had a fire burning brightly.

"How did you do that?" asked McGee.

"McSceptical, I did eight years at different wilderness camps and then went back and did four more as camp counsellor and leader. I know how to light a fire. I also know how to make a primitive friction fire kit and can build a natural shelter to sleep in."

"Wow," said Tim.

"Oh, and I can hunt and catch a bull-frog. Not sure why I would want to, but I could do it."

"You never said," said McGee.

"McGee," said Tony with some incredulity, "I live in DC. When do I need to light a fire or build a shelter? OK, admittedly the bull-frog thing might come in handy but, really?"

"I meant that you never said that you were good at all that outside stuff when I told you about what I was teaching my Webelos," said Tim still reeling slightly from the picture of survival expert Tony.

"Tim, it's not exactly a happy memory. Spending  _all_  summer,  _every_  summer at Camp. Not knowing where Senior was … well, you join the dots."

"Why so much camp?"

"Meant Senior could park me somewhere. I guess he got a discount or something for block bookings. Give him his due, there was that time he took me to Hawaii …"

"When he left you in the Maui Hilton?"

"Yeah. Didn't work out too well so he didn't try that experiment again. Still, it meant I got summer work easily. I was a real expert by the time I got to College."

"You were a camp counsellor?" said Tim.

"Yeah."

"Hard to imagine."

"Why?"

"Well, you and kids. You know. Isn't always pretty."

"I'll have you know that I was great with homesick teens. My specialty."

Tim opened his mouth to comment but then closed it when he realised that Tony had, unusually, just shared something both personal and painful. Instead he said,

"Right. What shall we have for supper?"

As Tony had, so far at least, not trapped any bull-frogs, they settled for beans, bread and beer. As the light began to fail, Tony went back to the jeep and returned with a package.

"What's that?" asked Tim as he watched Tony select two long twigs and sharpen the ends.

"S'mores," said Tony, as he put a marshmallow on a twig and handed it to Tim. "Crackers and chocolate are in the bag."

Silence reigned as they concentrated on making and eating the s'mores.

"Hey, I brought something too," said Tim. He dived into the tent and brought out a DVD player. "It's got a super long lasting battery," he said, "thought we could watch some movies."

"What you bring?" asked Tony.

"'Life and Times of Grizzly Adams'" said Tim proudly.

"McGee! I'm proud of you," said Tony fervently.

"And then tomorrow," continued Tim, "we can watch this really cool DVD from the Science Channel about Impossible Computers."

"Great," said Tony with a bit less enthusiasm, "have another s'more."

They watched the movie for an hour or so and then Tony yawned and said,

"I'm ready to hit the sack," and then he added sadly, "and I guess that's what I will be doing."

"No, no, Tony," insisted Tim, "the sleeping bags are top of the range and I brought self-inflating pads to put underneath. We'll be fine."

"OK," said Tony dubiously, "well, I'm gonna use the head and then we'll hit the self-inflating pads."

Tony went off to the camp facilities while Tim busied himself putting the finishing touches to their temporary home. A few minutes later, Tony was pleasantly surprised as he manoeuvred himself into his sleeping bag,

"Hey, good job, McBadenPowel," he said, "this doesn't feel at all bad. Well done."

"Didn't want you moaning about your back in the morning," said Tim.

"Wow, thanks, Tim."

McGee looked sharply at Tony but could see no hint of sarcasm and realised with a jolt that perhaps Tony wasn't used to people doing nice things for him. Tim didn't say anything but just nodded in acknowledgement.

When they were both in their sleeping bags, Tony spoke again,

"Tim."

"Yes?"

"You need to know the DiNozzo rules for tents."

"You have rules for camping?"

"I do now."

"OK, go on."

"What goes in the sleeping bag, stays in the sleeping bag?"

"What?"

"No snuggling."

"I don't want to snuggle," protested Tim, "at least not with you."

"That's not what Diane said," said Tony, "I think you have snuggling tendencies."

"I don't have snuggling tendencies."

"The evidence suggests you do," said Tony portentously, "and I want to make it clear that you must suppress them."

"Tony …!"

"Suppress them, Tim. In the interests of tent harmony, suppress them."

"All right," said Tim, giving in as he wanted to go to sleep.

"Good," said Tony dozily, "I knew you'd see it my way."

"Any more rules?" asked Tim but there was no reply and when he looked closer he saw that Tony was already asleep.

NCISNCIS.

Tim slept soundly and was woken only by the sound of Tony leaving the tent.

"Tony?" he said groggily, "what's up?"

"The sun," said Tony, "I'm going to have a shower. It's a beautiful day, my sleepy co-worker." He bestowed a beaming smile on a bemused Tim and left.

Tim lay there considering the horror of a DiNozzo who seemed to have become a  _morning_  person. He closed his eyes to consider this unexpected turn of events and promptly fell asleep again. The next thing he knew was the sound of Tony whistling as he returned. He opened his eyes as he saw Tony poke his head through the tent opening,

"Rise and shine, McSleepyhead," he said, "time's a wasting."

"Uhh," moaned Tim.

"I have something for you," said Tony in a sing song voice.

"What?"

Tony came fully into the tent and waved a mug under Tim's nose.

"Coffee?" said Tim coming to life, "where'd you get it?"

"Marcie at the camp shop. She'd just put a pot on and she was kind enough to share."

Part of Tim wanted to groan at the thought that Tony had found someone to exercise his charm on and another, needier, part was pathetically grateful to have a cup of caffeine and so he forbore to comment further but just stuck out a hand and took the drink. Tony nodded with satisfaction and Tim felt a rare moment of accord with his co-worker.

"Get up, Tim," said Tony, "you're on breakfast duty. Remember I like my eggs scrambled."

NCISNCIS

"Nice save," said Tony as he and Tim stood on the other side of a wide stream.

"Saw it on the map," said Tim, "thought it would be a good idea to stop off and buy some rain boots".

"Good job, McScout!" said Tony, clapping Tim on the shoulder, "And now, McEdmundHillary, let us tackle the mountain ahead."

"It's a bit of a slope," protested Tim, "not Mount Everest."

"There's no poetry in your soul," chided Tony, "tell me again, how did you manage to write a bestselling book?"

"Perhaps because I don't use up all my energy in nicknames and exaggeration," said Tim.

"You may have a point," conceded Tony, "OK, let us climb this slight slope."

Tim nodded and they began to climb.

"So," said Tony, "do you think I could write a book if I channelled my powers differently?"

Tim huffed a laugh and wondered, not for the first time, how Tony had the energy to talk so much

"Should be some bushes up ahead," said Tim, comparing the map and the co-ordinates, "equipment should be there."

"Great," said Tony, "let's hope Sullivan was as good at map reading as you are."

Tim smiled with pleasure but allowed himself a moment to worry that Sullivan might have been either lying or bad at map reading. His worries were unfounded. They found a wooden crate in the middle of some young trees.

"They look like hemlock," commented McGee.

"You mean they're poisonous?" asked Tony in alarm.

"No, they're perfectly safe," said McGee, "in fact they …"

" _In fact,_  I want to get back to the jeep," interrupted Tony, "save the botany lecture for later."

"But," began McGee.

"Isn't that some poison ivy?" said Tony, pointing to a spot near the crate."

"OK," muttered Tim, "let's go. But tree identification is real useful."

"Twelve years of wilderness camp, Tim. Twelve years. Any new species been found recently? Now, give me a hand getting this out."

The crate was heavy and awkward to carry so that even Tony ran out of breath to keep up a running commentary. When they finally hoisted it into the back of the jeep, they sighed.

"Only two more to find today," groaned Tim.

"Cheer up, McBreathless," said Tony as he recovered, "just think. We're going to visit the Navy Information Operations Command at Sugar Grove".

"So?" panted Tim as he shut the rear door.

"So, Tim. Just think. NIOC. Technology."

Tim smiled. Technology!

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"I think Lieutenant Maye liked you," mused Tony as he eyed up his extra-large burger and fries.

"What?" said McGee, also eying up Tony's fries and wishing he hadn't opted for salad with his steak.

"I said Lieutenant Maye liked you."

"Hmm," said Tim, trying to calculate the likelihood of Tony swapping some of his fries for McGee's lettuce. Deciding that the odds were too astronomical to calculate in his head, Tim abandoned that thought and replayed what Tony had said. "What?" he said again.

"I said …"

"Yeah, I heard you." Tony looked puzzled about why he had been asked to repeat himself so Tim hurried on, "I mean. What does it matter if the lieutenant liked me?"

Tony still looked puzzled. Lieutenant Maye was their contact at NIOC and they had just met her for the second time having delivered that day's haul of Sullivan stolen gear. "It's always good to know who likes you, Tim," he said.

"Sure," agreed Tim, wondering if he could just  _steal_  a fry or two.

"Besides, it might be useful," said Tony.

"Why?"

"Having a friend at NIOC."

"Again, why?"

"Although," said Tony reflectively, "she might not want to be Maggie McGee."

"What?"

"On the other hand, she's might like a change from being Maggie Maye."

"Tony!" exclaimed Tim, "what are you talking about?"

"Just trying to look out for you," said Tony in a hurt voice.

"How?"

"Well, if you get re-assigned to NIOC it would be good to have a friend there."

"NCIS doesn't have any agents at NIOC," said McGee.

"Not at the moment," agreed Tony.

"Then why would I be sent there?"

"Who knows what the Director will do when he recovers from his concussion?" said Tony reasonably.

"Tony, you don't think the Director will re-assign me, do you?"

Tony shrugged, privately happy that he had, momentarily at least, diverted McGee's attention from his fries.

"Do you?" asked McGee again.

Tony relented, "No, I don't think he will."

McGee breathed a sigh of relief.

"Gibbs on the other hand …" said Tony.

McGee slumped again.

"It's all right, McPanic," said Tony. "I phoned the Navy Yard while you were tech speaking with the lovely lieutenant."

Tim looked up hopefully.

"I spoke to the Director's assistant and …"

"And?" breathed Tim.

"And she said our esteemed Director is in perfect health."

"What?"

"Apparently he was coming down the stairs to consult with El Jefe when my desk lamp sprang into action."

"So he wasn't hit by it?"

"Nope."

"So he hasn't got concussion?"

"Nope."

"Then what? Why?"

"Gibbs deciding to turn the screw a bit more," supplied Tony.

"The b-b-b" spluttered Tim.

"Yep, living up to the second B," confirmed Tony, "here, have one of my fries."

Tim gaped at him, doubly grateful for news about Vance and the offer of food.

"Are you feeling all right, Tony?" he asked.

"In the pink," said Tony, "I think this healthy outdoor life may be doing me good. Why?"

"You're offering me food," said McGee, "in fact, you're offering me  _fries_. You can see why I'm confused."

"Hey, I can be generous," protested Tony. Tim continued to look sceptical so Tony said, "besides, I ordered an extra side of fries. They'll be here any minute."

Tim nodded and felt the world right itself on its axis.

It was drawing to the end of their second full day in Green Bank and they were eating in the diner before returning to the campsite for the evening. The search for Sullivan's caches had been reasonably smooth but it had been hard work as they had usually had to hike for some miles across rough or wooded terrain to find the locations. They had now found six crates and delivered them to Sugar Grove where they had been able to get brief 'fixes' of technology.

"There's something odd about this place," said Tony after having tipped exactly half of the side order of fries on to McGee's plate.

"What?" said McGee, looking round uneasily. The DiNozzo gut might not quite be on the level of Gibbs' but it was not to be lightly ignored.

"Don't know," said Tony as he gazed over the other customers. He nodded as someone smiled at him.

"What is it?" asked McGee anxiously, "who have you seen?"

"Guy sitting in that booth over there smiled at me," said Tony.

McGee looked over at the booth surreptitiously and then jumped slightly as the occupant smiled at him too.

"That's weird," said McGee, "he just grinned at me too. What do you think's going on? If only we could email Abby I could send her a picture and she could run facial recognition."

"What? You think some criminal master mind is smiling at us?" queried Tony.

"I don't know," hissed Tim, "let's just finish up and go!"

"We can't," said Tony.

"Why not?" asked McGee in some dread, "has he drawn a gun?"

"No. We haven't had dessert yet."

Double apple pie and cream seemed to sharpen Tony's reasoning skills and he put his spoon down in triumph after just a couple of mouthfuls.

"I know what it is," he said.

Tim leaned forward, "do I need to lay down cover while you make a run for it?"

Tony sat up straight, "Everyone's talking to one another!"

"What?"

"That's what's weird. Nobody's sitting looking at their cell or their Smartphone or their I-pad. They're looking at who they're sitting with and  _talking_  to them!"

Tim looked around and realised that Tony was right; he felt as if he'd been transported back to his childhood and to a time when a wrist watch was the only technology most people carried with them

Now that the reason for their sense of unease had been identified, Tim and Tony settled down for leisurely post dinner coffee. Tim got the map out and entered the latest set of co-ordinates.

"That's odd," he said.

"What?" asked Tony stretching luxuriously.

"Well, look at these co-ordinates."

"What about them?"

"Wouldn't you say that they're very regular?"

Tony looked at the map, "yeah, sort of a circle."

"Look at how evenly spaced they are."

"What about it?"

"I think we could probably work out where tomorrow's caches were going to be even without Gibbs telling us. Look how regular they are."

"You're right. Exactly five miles apart each time," agreed Tony.

"Do you think …?" began Tim.

"That the Boss is playing with us? Making us go the long way each day?"

"The b-b-b …," said Tim, "do you think Gibbs has got 3 Bs?"

"At least," said Tony sourly.

"I reckon we can work out where the other hiding places are," said Tim confidently.

"And we'll go to them in the shortest order," said Tony, "and not keep driving miles more than we need to."

"Gibbs will never know," crowed Tim.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," said Tony cautiously, "this is the Boss we're talking about but I don't think it will matter. We'll just be using our initiative."

"And saving NCIS a fortune in gas," said Tim.

"Diesel," corrected Tony, "but you're right."

NCISNCIS

"Jethro," said Ducky as Gibbs wandered into Autopsy, "have you got a dead body for me to investigate?"

"No, Duck."

"A psychological autopsy you need carried out?"

"No, Duck."

"You haven't come to  _steal_  a body, I hope," said Ducky with sudden suspicion.

"That was just once, Duck. And it was DiNozzo's idea, not mine."

"Well, as it happens I do not have any customers at the moment. It is remarkably quiet. In fact, one might almost say it's as quiet as the grave." The ME chuckled a little at his joke, "although in my experience since I have known you, Jethro, I would hesitate to designate a grave as quiet. You have a propensity for causing mayhem and uproar in the most unlikely of places."

Gibbs gave a distracted smile.

"So, what is the purpose of your visit to these nether regions, Jethro?"

"Just seeing how you're doing, Duck," said Gibbs unconvincingly.

"Ah," said Ducky, "well, that is most considerate of you. And how are things with you, Jethro. In the upper regions so to speak?"

"Quiet."

"I see. I understand that Miss Bishop has decided to take some time off?"

"Yeah. Couldn't go out in the field without DiNozzo and McGee."

Ducky smiled to himself. He had seen the panicked expression on Ellie's face when she discovered she was to be left on her own with Gibbs. In his mind he rubbed his hands with glee at the thought that he would win his wager with his assistant as to how long she would last before finding an excuse to be absent.

"So, what are you doing upstairs now you're on your own?"

"Cold cases. Catching up on paper work," Gibbs sighed.

"I see," said Ducky again, "it must be nice and peaceful without the prank war going on around you. Well, at least now that Timothy's phone has stopped its performance and Anthony's lamp has stopped twitching."

"Guess so," said Gibbs a little sadly.

"Jethro, I do believe you miss them."

"Duck ..." said Jethro in a tone of denial.

"I must admit it is strange to see you without one of your agents trailing behind you," observed Ducky, "like a goose without her goslings."

Gibbs smiled involuntarily although he also winced a little at the maternal overtones of the picture, "had to get them out of the office for a while," he said, "they were driving everyone mad."

"Indeed," said Ducky, "Mr Palmer and I were on tenterhooks lest the carnage spill over into our domain. They were really most inventive. It reminded me of a practical joke someone played on me while I was Edinburgh Medical School. It involved six caterpillars, a stuffed tortoise, a length of hosepipe and four silver sixpence pieces. The perpetrators, Alexander Dobie-Farquharson and Bobbie Wilkerson were nearly sent down for that exploit. You see …," Ducky trailed off as he saw that his anecdote was not cheering Gibbs up. "I must say I thought your choice of assignment was masterly, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded distractedly.

"Who would have thought there was a place so close to DC where technology was so discouraged?" mused Ducky.

Gibbs' hand twitched forlornly as if it was missing delivering head slaps.

"And Jethro, although you appear to be administering a punishment to our errant co-workers I think in fact you found a most sagacious way of enabling them to recover from the recent punishing schedule," observed Ducky.

"Uh?"

"Sending our two young men out to perform a straightforward yet energetic task will make them work together towards a common goal and build the bonds of trust between them as their minds and bodies are restored."

"Either that or they'll kill each other," said Gibbs morosely.

"There is that," said Ducky philosophically, "oh, well. Time will tell. Time will tell."

NCISNCIS

Tim felt the need for a bit of 'alone time' when they got back to the campsite. Spending all his waking hours with DiNozzo was going better than he'd expected but it was still draining so he volunteered to go and collect more firewood. As he returned from his expedition, he paused on the forest edge and considered the sight before him.

DiNozzo was lighting their evening fire and setting up a tripod from which to hang a pot to heat water. He was doing it deftly, efficiently and without fuss. McGee knew that he could have done it just as well but might have wanted to give a running commentary as he did so. He wondered if that was one of the differences between them. Tony seemed to think that everything needed to look as if it was effortless and came naturally while Tim felt the need to let people know that he had learned how to do things and that they were difficult.

Looking back on life with the Admiral, Tim realised that natural ability had somehow been mistrusted, been too much of an unpredictable wildcard. What was honoured in the McGee household was hard work and struggle; there was no place for the dilettante and the young Tim had learned the lesson well. Perhaps, he mused, Tony had learned the lessons of a DiNozzo household, a household where entitlement and privilege were important and hard work was looked down on.

Tim shook himself and walked towards the fire. It was too late now to rue the way they had been brought up; perhaps they just needed to be grateful that they had both turned out to be highly competent, if quirky, adults.

"Good job," said Tim as he approached.

Tony looked up suspiciously, "And?" he said.

"And nothing," said Tim, "just saying. Looks good".

Tony relaxed, "OK, do you want cocoa or coffee?"

"Coffee," said Tim firmly, "I don't want to fall asleep watching the 'Amazing Computer' DVD."

Tony groaned, "I'm having cocoa," he said.

As they nursed their drinks, Tony said,

"I was talking to Marcie this morning."

"What about?"

"Caspar Sullivan."

"Does she know him?"

"Not at first."

"What do you mean?"

"She knows him as Colin."

"Why?"

"Seems that Caspar doesn't like his first name," said Tony, "too outlandish. He wanted to fit in so he used the name Colin. Still got teased though."

"What did Marcie say about 'Colin'?"

"Bit of a loner. Didn't have many friends."

"Not unusual," said Tim.

"Guess not. Means he must have been building up his stashes for a long time."

"How so?"

"It's taken both of us to carry those crates, Tim. Sullivan doesn't seem to have had anyone helping him so I reckon he must have filled those boxes bit by bit."

"Makes sense. He's probably been stealing small amounts from the Navy for a long time. That's why they didn't notice. What did she think of him?"

"Said he made her feel uneasy."

"Marcie? Marcie felt uneasy?" Tim was surprised. He hadn't really spoken much to the campsite manager but she had seemed a very confident, no-nonsense sort of woman who wouldn't be easily intimidated.

"Yeah, odd, isn't it? Said he sometimes had some strange views."

"What sort of strange views?"

"Didn't like the idea of being listened to. Didn't approve of the facility at Sugar Grove."

"Why'd he join the Navy if he disapproves of NIOC?" asked Tim.

"Who knows?" yawned Tony, "doesn't matter, I guess. Army CID have him now, he can't do any harm."

Tim nodded. He drained the rest of his coffee. "DVD time," he said happily.

"Great," said Tony unconvincingly although there would be some pleasure in just watching moving pictures.

"And tomorrow," said Tim with the air of conferring a great treat, "I thought we could contemplate some divine bodies."

"I like the sound of that," said Tony cheering up, "we'll go into town."

"The conditions will be better here," said Tim earnestly.

"What?" said Tony suspiciously, "why?"

"I mean, the conditions in town are much better than back in DC but still, up here they're superb. It's a shame to waste them."

"What conditions?"

"There's no light pollution," said McGee, "we'll see the stars really clearly."

"McGalileo," said Tony morosely, "you and me, we have very different definitions of divine bodies!"

 


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm going to bring the coffee mugs down to Marcie," said Tony the next morning, "meet you down there."

McGee nodded. They had quickly fallen into a routine. Tony would get up first, go down for a shower and cajole mugs of freshly made coffee from Marcie while Tim would make breakfast for them both. Tony would then clear up while Tim used the facilities.

Today was no different except that today they were going to put their theory to the test and calculate where Sullivan would have hidden his loot rather than just drive to the co-ordinates supplied by Gibbs. They had noticed that the Petty Officer favoured clumps of trees or undergrowth near streams or ponds in which to hide his stashes so they were pretty confident they would be successful.

Tony wasn't waiting outside when Tim pulled up in the jeep outside the campsite reception building so he went to look for him. Tony was talking to Marcie about Sullivan.

"I don't know," she was saying, "I think Colin had one of those alphabet illnesses."

"A what?" asked Tony.

"You know, honey, ends with D."

"ADD?" suggested Tim helpfully, "or ADHD?"

"I don't know, Tim," said Marcie doubtfully.

"ADD," said Tim, "it's what Tony has."

"Do you, dear?" asked Marcie solicitously, "what's it like?"

"You know," said Tim, "can't concentrate, always changing the subject …"

"I do not have ADD," said Tony firmly and with dignity, "I just happen to have a lively mind which refuses to be trammelled by … well, by the things which trammel the minds of most people."

"Well," said Marcie thoughtfully, "I don't know about this ADE stuff but Colin wasn't anything like Tony."

Tony cast a triumphant look at McGee, "Perhaps you're thinking of OCD, Marcie. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."

"Maybe. What are the symptoms of that?" asked Marcie.

"Let me see," mused Tony, "did Colin ever buy a donut and pick all the sprinkles off?"

"Not that I know of. Why would someone do that? Why not buy a plain donut in the first place?" said a puzzled Marcie.

"Hah," said Tony, "I've been asking myself that for years."

"The sprinkles add just the right amount of sweetness to the frosting," said Tim earnestly, "well, I mean, they do when they're taken off. They leave behind just a touch of extra taste."

"Really?" said Marcie, "I never knew that. I'll have to try it next time I have a donut," and she smiled sweetly at Tim leaving Tony to reflect that she was one of the kindest people he had ever met.

"I guess," she continued, "Colin might have had the O thing rather than the A thing but I don't think anything was ever diagnosed. But he was very precise, very ordered. A bit controlling, if you know what I mean. I think that's why he used to spend so much time in the woods, away from people."

"Thanks, Marcie," said Tony, "we'll see you later."

"Have a good day, boys. How much longer you going to be here?"

"We should finish today or tomorrow," said Tim, "be gone for the weekend."

"You're welcome to stay longer," said Marcie, "the coffee pot's always waiting for you."

Tony and Tim nodded their thanks and set off for the first location. As they hit what passed for the main road they drove past the Quiet Zone truck which was on constant patrol monitoring for rogue transmissions. The driver gave them a cheery wave as they went past.

"Imagine that as a job," observed Tim.

"What?"

"Driving round cracking down on people using forbidden electrical equipment," McGee shuddered at the thought.

"Gibbs'd love it," said Tony, "in fact he'd love this whole place. Perhaps we should suggest it as somewhere for him to retire to."

"The sooner the better," said McGee darkly. He hadn't forgiven Gibbs yet for nearly giving him a nervous breakdown by telling him he had given the Director a concussion.

"That's the spirit," said Tony cheerfully, "and remember, 'revenge is a dish best served cold'"

"You think we should plot revenge?" said Tim with sudden interest.

"It's tempting," agreed Tony.

"Any ideas?" asked Tim eagerly.

"Not really," said Tony, "my brain keeps freezing at the thought that Gibbs will always find out we're the culprits. And we all know how inventive his revenge can be even when he doesn't serve it cold."

McGee made a clucking sound.

Tony took his eyes off the road momentarily to deliver a glare at Tim, "seriously, Tim. You're accusing me of being chicken?"

"If the beak fits," said McGee loftily.

Tony laughed, "You really think Gibbs doesn't have an Arctic weather station waiting for you, McUnderestmateGibbsatyourperil?"

"No NCIS agents posted to weather stations," Tim pointed out.

"Yet," said Tony solemnly, "and do you really think that would stop Gibbs?"

"Hmm," said Tim who was clearly not yet ready to give up on the idea of revenge.

Tony wondered if his co-worker would display the same obsessive behaviour over this as he did over donuts and sprinkles. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to book a ringside seat or a week's vacation.

The question of retribution was shelved for the moment as they reached the first of what they had calculated to be Sullivan's hiding places. There was the usual two mile hike to a remote spot away from the road and there, close to a stream and in a clump of trees, they found the familiar box. They high fived each other in triumph and then prised the lid off.

"He didn't exactly steal top notch stuff, did he?" observed Tony.

Tim nodded his head in agreement. The crates were usually full but some of the equipment was old and out of date, some of it was broken and none of it especially hi-tech. The latest crate contained some tools and monitoring devices which were expensive but available at most hardware stores. Tim and Tony sighed and, in a well-practised manoeuvre, carried the crate back to the jeep.

By the end of the day, using their calculations, they had collected two crates in addition to those at the co-ordinates supplied by Gibbs.

"We might get home a day early at this rate," said Tony with satisfaction as they drove into the NIOC base.

"Yeah, guess so," said McGee.

"Thought you'd be pleased, Tim."

"I am," insisted Tim, "but it's been …"

"Fun?" suggested Tony.

"No."

"Exhilarating?"

"No."

"Educational?"

"Why would it have been educational?" asked Tim.

"Well, you know. Time spent with me is never wasted."

"In that case, no, it hasn't been educational."

"You disappoint me, Tim," said Tony mournfully, "so what has it been?"

"Not as bad as I thought it was going to be," said Tim.

"Ouch. Damned with faint praise," winced Tony, "still faint praise is better than none," he added with an attempt to look on the bright side.

Lieutenant Maye was waiting for them with a ready smile for Tim and a cooler nod to Tony. Philosophically admitting defeat, Tony made the call to Gibbs; he thought, in any case, that it might be better to keep Tim away from the Boss while his anger was still simmering.

"Hey, Boss," he said cheerfully.

"DiNozzo," came a rather unpromising response.

"You'd like it here, Boss," continued Tony doggedly,

A customary silence.

"No cell phones. It's real quiet," he pressed on.

"Hmm," this suggested a slight mellowing but Tony decided not to take any chances,

"We got the crates," he said neutrally, not letting on that they had retrieved more than that day's allocation.

"Get ready to take down the next set," said Gibbs.

"On it, Boss," said Tony obediently.

Gibbs read out three map references and Tony was pleased to see that two of them were of the places they had been today.

"That it?" he asked, they had become accustomed to Gibbs giving them three a day.

"There's another one," said Gibbs, "it's the last one, Sullivan gave it up today. Looks quite close to some of the others so you might as well fetch that one too."

Tony took down the details and waited to see if there were any other instructions. Before Gibbs could speak, however, Tony heard Abby's excited voice echo down the line.

"Is that Tim and Tony?" he heard, "Are they all right? They haven't got sick from sleeping in the damp, have they? It's not too cold for them, is it? Did they bring hot water bottles with them? Did …?"

"Abs," said Gibbs dampeningly, "they're NCIS federal agents not children in kindergarten. They'll be fine."

"Can I speak to them?" beseeched Abby, apparently undeterred by Gibbs' disapproval, "please?"

"They're working," said Gibbs, "no time to chat."

"Ohh," said Abby sadly, "but I miss them …"

"Abby!" said Gibbs brusquely.

"And so do you! The way you've been wandering around like a lost soul. You deny it, but you can't fool me, Mister …"

"DiNozzo!" said Gibbs, "finish the job," and he put the phone down so that Tony could hear no more. With a smile on his face and his heart strangely warmed, he went to find Tim.

"What are you so happy about?" asked Tim when he saw the senior field agent.

"Gibbs misses us," said Tony happily.

"Did he say so?" asked Tim in surprise.

"No … but Abby said so."

"You spoke to Abby?"

"Not directly. She was in the background. Well, as much as Abby is ever in the background."

"How many co-ordinates did Gibbs give us?"

"Four."

"Four?"

"Relax. We've been to two already. And it looks as if this is the last batch. Gibbs said our friend gave the last one up today."

"Great," said Tim, "we should be able to go home tomorrow then. Although …"

"Although what? Finding being with me educational after all?"

"No. No. No, I was thinking that if we'd been here a bit longer I might have tried making a stew in a hay box."

"Sounds great," said Tony trying to sound enthusiastic, "pity to miss out on that."

NCISNCIS

"You wrote the co-ordinates down wrong," said Tim as they sat in their accustomed place in the diner waiting for their meals with extra sides of fries to arrive.

"No, I didn't," said Tony, "I have excellent skills of recall. That's what the Boss said."

"It doesn't make sense," protested Tim, "look. This last one is just random. It doesn't form part of the pattern."

"You're right," agreed Tony, "looks as if it's in a sports stadium or something. Maybe the Boss has got it wrong."

"What shall we do?"

"We'll go there and check," decided Tony, "There's probably a pay phone nearby so if we don't find a crate there, we'll call Gibbs and ask for the details again. Sullivan probably just made a mistake."

Tim opened his mouth to discuss this more but closed it again as his chilli arrived and he had to prepare his defences in case Tony took a fancy to it.

It came on to rain as they drove to the campsite and Tim sighed discontentedly.

"It's cloudy," he said.

"Good observation skills," said Tony preparing to run to the tent, "hope you got the badge for that."

"We won't be able to watch the stars," said Tim.

"Shame," said Tony insincerely, "we'll have to miss out on those divine bodies."

"Still," said Tim brightly, "it will give us more time to watch the 'Mysteries of Binary' DVD."

"There's always a bright side," said Tony bravely and then, under his breath, "allegedly."

NCISNCIS

The rain continued during the night and Tim and Tony awoke feeling damp and miserable. They didn't light a fire so just had bread and cold beans for breakfast before making an early start on what they hoped would be the last day's work.

They went first to the set of co-ordinates they trusted and found the box as they expected before driving to the sports stadium which served the small town.

"No trees or anything here," said Tim, "and no water either. I'm telling you this is the wrong place."

"I heard you the first fifty three times," said Tony, "come on. We have to check."

The stadium was deserted so they didn't have to show their badges.

"I can't see anything," said Tony as they gazed across the baseball field.

"There's a hut over there," said Tim, "would be about the right place."

"OK, let's look there," said Tony, "then you can phone Gibbs."

"Why me?"

"You're the one who's good at writing down map references," said Tony, "you can do it."

Tim grumbled but, as it turned out, there was no need to call Gibbs. When they pulled open the door of the tumbledown hut, they saw the usual crate.

"Told you I wrote it down right," said Tony virtuously.

"OK, OK," said Tim, "but it doesn't make sense."

"Shall we leave it here then?" said Tony sarcastically, "and tell the Boss that we didn't come here because 'it didn't make sense'?"

McGee huffed in annoyance.

"You're mad at our thief for not being logical?" asked Tony.

"No," said Tim unconvincingly, "but it …"

"I know, it doesn't make sense," Tony completed Tim's sentence. "Perhaps he got tired of perfection?"

"Guess so," muttered Tim, "or perhaps this place has some other significance for him?"

"From what Marcie said, I don't think it's the sort of place he'd have happy memories of," said Tony, "she said he was bad at sports and got teased a lot."

"Let's get this one in the jeep," said Tim, and he and Tony braced themselves to pick up the crate.

The box lifted easily and the two looked at each other in surprise.

"Hey, he made the last one easy for us," said Tony, "thanks, Caspar."

They put the last box into the jeep and started driving towards Sugar Grove to hand everything in. After a couple of miles they passed the tracker van and received another happy wave from its driver.

"It's a nice place," said Tim, "friendly people, beautiful scenery, peaceful."

"You thinking of moving here?" asked Tony a bit absently.

"Good heavens, no," shuddered Tim, "at least not until they shut down the Observatory and let technology in."

Tony laughed and then froze into silence. Tim looked at him in a puzzlement which increased when Tony stopped the jeep and got out.

"Tony? What's the matter?" asked Tim following him to the back of the vehicle.

"We didn't look inside," said Tony.

"So what? It'll just be the usual stuff."

"Nothing else has been 'usual' about this box," said Tony.

"Like you said, it was the last one. Perhaps he didn't have so much stuff to hide. Perhaps the hut was just meant to be a temporary hiding place."

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Probie," said Tony.

Tony pulled the last crate forwards and they lifted the lid and peered in.

"Nothing wrong here," said McGee in relief, "in fact this looks better than the usual stuff we've been finding" as he pointed to what looked like transmitters or receivers of some type. He turned to go back to the front of the car. He had gone a few paces when he heard Tony say in an oddly calm voice,

"Tim, what does this look like to you?"

McGee turned back and saw Tony pointing inside the box from which he had removed a piece of equipment. Tim looked where Tony was pointing,

"Er … it looks like a bomb to me."

"That's what it looks like to me as well, Tim. And I think it's counting down!"

 


	5. Chapter 5

"We've got to get EOD here," gasped Tim as he gazed down at the bomb. His hand went to the pocket where his cell lived. "Damn! Our cells won't work! How far is it to the nearest pay phone? What do we do? Take the box out and drive down to the phone? How long have we got till this thing goes off?"

"Three hours by the clock," said Tony in a fairly impressive calm voice.

"That's OK, then," said Tim in relief, "we've got plenty of time."

"Know what an EOD technician said to me once?" asked Tony.

"No," said Tim hoping that Tony wasn't going to go on a Ducky-like tangent, "What?"

"Don't trust the ticking clock on a bomb."

"Why not?"

"Because bomb makers aren't usually full of the milk of human kindness and may be using the timer to confuse you."

"Oh," said Tim, "so we might not have three hours?"

"Well, speaking personally, I wouldn't want to bet my life on the reliability of someone who plants bombs but don't let me stop you."

"OK," agreed Tim, "so we need to get to a pay phone. Or do we wait and flag someone down?"

"Let's risk taking the crate out of the jeep," decided Tony, "it can't be too sensitive, the road wasn't exactly smooth."

"Right," said Tim. They carefully removed the crate and gently set it down on the grass by the side of the road. Tim couldn't help but contrast how nervous they now felt handling the box compared to when they first discovered it. They backed away a few feet and thought.

"Now what?" said Tim.

"Drive down to Green Bank or the first pay phone you come to and get help," said Tony and as Tim opened his mouth to protest added, "That's an order, Probie."

"Why don't you come as well?" suggested Tim.

"And leave an unexploded bomb by the roadside?"

"Perhaps not," said Tim, "maybe I'll pass that detector van. He must have some way of contacting civilisation."

"Say that again," said Tony suddenly.

"I said that may be I'll go past the detector van …"

"I heard you," said Tony and he went back to the crate.

"Then why ask me to say it again?" muttered Tim as he followed Tony.

"This looks like a transmitter to me," said Tony as he pointed into the box.

Tim looked gingerly where he was pointing, "yes, and that's a receiver. Oh, and another transmitter."

"Do they need to be plugged in?" asked Tony.

"What?"

"Do they need to be plugged in or do they run off their own power?"

Tim looked again, "No. They should have some battery capacity. They wouldn't run for long off battery but it's there as a failsafe."

"Great," said Tony reaching for the on switch. Tim reached out a hand and stopped him,

"Who are you going to try and contact, Tony? We don't know what wavelengths to transmit on and there's nothing to speak into."

"Doesn't matter, Tim. We just need to set them off."

"Why?"

"They're powerful, aren't they?" asked Tony.

"Yeah, sure."

"Marcie told me she had an old electric blanket that went wrong," said Tony.

"So?" said McGee itching to get in the jeep and go for help.

"The tracker van picked it up, it was setting off some sort of interference that was confusing the Observatory."

"Yeah?"

Tony stared rather than giving Tim an answer.

"So …" said Tim, and his expression changed.

"There you go," said Tony.

"So, if we switch these machines on they'll be picked up by the tracker van and at the watching facilities. Tony, that's brilliant."

"You made me think of it when you said about the tracker van," said Tony, "this way we'll just make sure it gets here quickly."

"Just one thing," said McGee.

"What?"

"It's possible that creating this signal might set the bomb off."

"Oh," said Tony, "OK, I'll wait till you've gone before I switch them on."

"Perhaps I should stay," said Tim.

"Why?"

"I'm the one with the scientific background."

"McGee," said Tony with a smile, "it's throwing a switch. I think I can manage that without a degree from M.I.T. Go!"

Tim walked to the jeep and paused, "Tony," he said seriously.

"I'll be careful, Tim. Go on."

"But …," said Tim.

"I know you care, Tim, you don't need to say anything."

"Er, no," said Tim, "that's not it. I mean, I do care. Obviously I  _care_  but that isn't what I was going to say."

"Oh," said Tony in a disappointed voice, "Oh. What were you going to say?"

"If Green Bank misses out on picking up on the first alien transmission from a distant galaxy because of your interference … well, the scientists aren't going to be pleased."

"McGullible," said Tony, "what makes you think it would be the  _first_  message from little green men?"

"You mean …" said McGee in a shocked voice, "that they might be keeping life on other planets  _secret_?"

"Tim," said Tony patiently, "could we have this discussion some other time?"

"Uh, oh, yes, I see what you mean," said McGee. He got into the jeep and then poked his head out once more, "Tony?"

"What?!"

"Do you think we're turning into Ducky?"

"Eh?"

"Going off on tangents?"

Tony didn't reply and Tim drove off leaving Tony walking up to the crate again. Tim had driven a few hundred yards when he heard a loud bang; he slammed on the brakes and heard another bang. He looked through the rear window mirror but couldn't see any smoke and then realised that the noise was the remaining crate crashing round in the back. He took a deep breath and started driving again.

NCISNCIS

"Wow, you have to admit that's impressive," said Tony, as he surveyed the scene around the bomb. The tracking van had arrived within ten minutes of him switching the transmitters and receiver on followed a few minutes later by crews from the Observatory and NIOC. By the time McGee got back to report he had called in the situation by phone, the normally peaceful countryside was buzzing with officials.

"How long before EOD get here?" asked McGee.

"About an hour," said Tony, "flying a team in from Camp Dawson."

"What was he up to? Sullivan, I mean."

"Who knows?" said Tony. "I guess if the crate hadn't been found, he'd have blown up the sports stadium."

"A place he hated," said McGee.

"Or it could have blown up while it was being moved. So he'd have taken out someone from the police or the military or us."

"But he didn't know us," said McGee.

"You think he wouldn't have done it if he'd known what nice people we are?" joked Tony.

"Hey, to know us is to love us," said Tim, "well, me anyway."

"I reckon he thought that any explosion would be good but the best would be if it had gone off inside NIOC. Remember Marcie saying he didn't approve of it?"

"Do you think he deliberately allowed himself to get caught selling that equipment?" asked McGee.

"Might have done," shrugged Tony, "timing was right. Suddenly remembering about the last box just as the countdown was running out. We'll find out anyway."

"How?"

"Attack on NIOC? Can't see Gibbs letting Army CID keep hold of the case now. One stare from Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Sullivan will spill," said Tony confidently.

"Look, someone's coming over," observed McGee, "Do you think he's coming to say thank you?"

"Don't know," said Tony, "not unless he's as good as Gibbs at disguising being happy."

Indeed, the youngish man approaching them did not look pleased.

"Was it you who set those signals off?" he demanded.

"Yes," said Tony, "and you're welcome."

"Welcome," almost screamed the young man, "d'you know how long it will take to recalibrate our equipment? We might lose  _days_  of observations."

"Well," said Tony, "there was a bomb. You know what that is? We thought it was a bit urgent to let people know."

"There must have been other ways," said the irate man.

"Tony, he's right," said Tim. Tony gave him a wounded look. "We should have tried smoke signals. They wouldn't have interfered with the telescope, would it?"

"I don't know, Tim," said Tony seriously, "I'd have used a friction stick to get the fire going. Who knows what that would have done?"

"I guess we should have just left the truck where it was," mused Tim, "or drive it to NIOC and let it blow up."

"Do you think all that NIOC equipment blowing up would have caused much interference?" asked Tony. "I guess not."

"Good point, Tony," said Tim apparently giving it serious consideration, "tell you what, I'll go and tell EOD not to bother dismantling the bomb."

"Good work, Tim," said Tony cheerfully slapping Tim on the shoulder. "And you, what's your name?" he said to the young man,

"Travis. Nicholas Travis," came the reply.

"Tim, tell EOD that Mr Travis here will drive the jeep."

Travis went pale and began to bluster in panic. Tim and Tony smiled at each other but were interrupted in their contemplation of the scientist's worry by the arrival of a tall, lean man.

"I'm Dr Stephen Oaks," he said, "I'm one of the deputy managers at the Observatory."

Tony and Tim sighed and braced themselves for more criticism and were surprised when Oaks shook their hands.

"I just wanted to come over and say thank you," he said, "an explosion would have caused us a great deal of disruption and it would have interrupted our researches."

"Your colleague," said Tim nodding towards Travis, "seemed to have a different view."

"Ah," said Oaks looking a bit uneasy, "I prefer to look on the positive side. You setting off those signals and the interference were a splendid test of our warning systems."

Travis almost stamped his feet in frustration at his boss's opinion. Dr Oaks turned and patted him on the shoulder,

"Nick," he said, "why don't you go back to your laboratory and start your re-calibration. Your machines need you."

Travis nodded unhappily, delivered another scowl in Tony and Tim's direction and then stalked back to his car. Dr Oaks watched him go and sighed,

"I'm afraid Nick gets a bit excited," he said, "he's very attached to his computers …"

"It's all right," said Tim, "we know someone who loves her computers."

"Yes," chimed in Tony, "when Major Mass Spec blows a fuse, she's twitchy for days."

"Then you know what it's like. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's brilliant but … well, he's temperamental. And he's embarrassed."

"Why?" asked Tony.

"Can you keep a secret?" asked the doctor.

"We have a high security clearance," said Tim solemnly.

"Well," said Dr Oaks in a confidential tone as the others leaned in to hear, "when he first heard the signals … he got excited. They weren't like anything he'd heard before and he thought that … that … he might be hearing a message from outside our solar system. He started his computers analysing the signals in case he could discern a message. Let's just say that he was disappointed when he realised the message was coming from just down the road!"

Tony and Tim nodded wisely and managed to keep a straight face.

"Nice to meet you, gentlemen," said the doctor, "If you have time before you leave, come and visit us at Green Bank. I'll be happy to give you a special guided tour of our facility."

He shook hands again and left the two agents in differing attitudes of gratitude at his offer.

"You know," said Tony as he watched him go, "for an assignment in a low tech area, this has turned out to involve a lot of  _sciencey_ stuff."

"What do you mean, Tony?" asked Tim.

"Retrieving all these techy gizmos; watching all your computery DVDs and now an invitation for a VIP tour of an Observatory …"

McGee sighed happily, "I know. Great, isn't it?"

A sergeant from NIOC drew near.

"Sir, I've got a Special Agent Gibbs on the phone for you," and he held out a satellite phone.

"Look at that, Tim," said Tony, "it's a miracle. It's a phone which you can carry round with you!"

"Yes, Sir," said the sergeant, "as it's an emergency we're using the satellite technology."

Tony took the phone, "Hey, Boss. How you doing?"

"Sitrep," said Gibbs.

"Right. EOD are on their way and they're going to defuse the bomb. And then the mantle of techlessness will once more spread itself it over this peaceful place and the geeks can get back to listening to space."

"Good," said Gibbs, "I spoke to Lieutenant Maye from NIOC. They're going to take the last crate back themselves so you don't have to. Once EOD give you the all clear you're finished up there.

"Thanks, Boss. Uh, Boss," said Tony.

"What?"

"This place won't be as quiet as normal for a couple of hours."

"Surprised it's been quiet at all with you and McGee around," said Gibbs a bit unkindly.

"Boss?"

"Last few days have made me realise how much noise you two make," answered Gibbs.

Tony and Tim digested that for a moment, wondering if that was Gibbs' way of saying he had missed them.

"Anyway, Boss," said Tony, "like I was saying it's not as quiet as usual. Might be a good idea to make sure NIOC are still listening as much as possible."

"Why?"

"Just in case Sullivan had a plan to take NIOC off line for a while. You know, there might have been something about to go down that he wanted to keep hidden. I think he's just a lone wolf but wouldn't hurt to make sure."

"Good thought," said Gibbs, "I'll get on it. Sullivan's being brought here tomorrow and I'll interrogate him myself."

"You need us back, Boss?"

"Nope, Bishop's coming back tomorrow. Clear things up where you are and take the weekend off."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Good job. Both of you."

NCISNCIS

It was late by the time EOD finished up and the road was clear so Tony and Tim decided to spend another night at the campsite. As they sat round the fire, Tony said,

"I'm almost going to miss this. Sleeping on that self-inflating pad has been good for my back."

"And there's no traffic noise," said McGee, "I've slept really well."

"Marcie said we could stay on …"

"We could go on that tour of the Observatory," said McGee excitedly.

"Well …" said Tony, beginning to regret expressing doubts about not going home.

"And the sky's going to be really clear tomorrow night, we could do our star gazing."

"Hmm …"

"Marcie said she's got a hay box I can use to make my special stew."

"I don't know, McGee …"

"And I looked in the campsite DVD library … they've got a box set of Magnum."

"Well," said Tony beginning to weaken.

"And I thought that perhaps …"

"What, Tim?"

"Well, you said you were good at trapping bull-frogs. I've never caught one. You could teach me?"

Tony looked across at McGee's hopeful face and gave in.

"OK. But just two nights. We go back on Sunday."

"Yes," said McGee, "and just think …" he added darkly.

"What?" said Tony indulgently.

"I'll have loads of time to think how to get back at Gibbs about Vance's concussion!"

Tony sighed as he realised that, like elephants, McGees don't forget.

 


End file.
